The writing on the wall is aimed to convey the message 'Parking is Prohibited' but accidental the misuse of the language means it reads 'Park Prohibited', a gentle and inadvertent reference to the spark that fired the Gezi Park protests.

A wall tagged with the letters CCC (three crescents) - a symbol used by ultra nationalists, a graffiti of the nation's much-loved 80's psychedelic rocker Baris Manco known for his positive spirit and a striking woman dressed in leather coming out of her red Ferrari. Bomonti, Istanbul.

Turkish police fire tear gas and water cannon in an attempt to disperse protesters in the streets of Istanbul during clashes following the death of Tahir Elci, a prominent senior Kurdish lawyer. Elci was shot dead on November 28th in the Diyarbakir province.

The image of the masked protestor, with their fiery eyes and fist in the air is one of the most iconic images in popular culture. This character has become romanticized, demonized, idolized, and oftentimes misunderstood. The upheaval that has taken place around the world, especially in the last four years, has both reinforced and broken this stereotype.

But who are those who take to the streets? Why do they do it? What do they want?

A procession of women in Nigeria, marching together with placards reading “Bring Back Our Girls”, has a considerably different tone than the charged clashes between riot police and anarchists in Greece. A candlelight vigil held by journalists in Lebanon in solidarity with Charlie Hebdo does not have the same risk of deadly violence as villagers and farmers confronting trigger-happy gunmen in Syria. And a group of concerned citizens voicing their discontent with the privatization of a public beach does not have the same high social and political stakes as those trying to overthrow an authoritarian regime.

However, despite vast differences in context and situation, those who take to the streets often share a common drive to stand up for ideas they believe in. For many, there is a common belief that by taking to the streets and making their voices public, they can influence change in their world.

After the outbreak of war in Syria in 2012, a large part of the Kurdish population of Rojava in Syrian Kurdistan has sought shelter in Turkey. Many of these refugees passed at first through refugee camps in eastern Turkey and left due to the harsh conditions. Others succeeded to enter Turkey otherwise and to make their own way to major cities. The situation for refugees in Istanbul shows two distinct tendencies. For Syrians, refugees of war are given what is called "temporary protection," which involves more help from the government, while for Kurds, the government of Turkey offers what it calls "temporary asylum."

In a wide spectrum of refugees with greater or lesser economic capacity, some have found accommodation in neighborhoods with Kurdish communities already present, while other parts of the refugee community have been forced to squat abandoned buildings. To start the asylum process requires an application to the Turkish government and a separate one to the UNHCR (for recognition of refugee status), however some do not posess the necessary identification to even begin. A high percentage of refugees in Istanbul arrived in the city directly from the refugee camps along the Turkey-Syria border. They have less opportunities and greater chances of being arrested by the authorities and being sent back to the camps.

People living in the poorest neighborhoods, such as Tarlablaşı, which extends nearly down to the main tourist streets of the city of Istanbul, are now confronted with a new restructuring plan implemented by the government of Prime Minister Erdogan. The continuous flow of refugees who come to Turkey from Syria, and the difficulties Kurdish refugees face in being recognized as asylum seekers by the Turkish government indicate a situation that is far from ending.

For 299 Saturdays Ersoy Tan, a 41 year old Turkish journalist from Istanbul, has photographed the same thing: protest held by the mothers of Kurdish men who disappeared during Turkey's 'Dirty War' against the Kurdish PKK in the 1980's and 1990's. His photos of Turkey’s dark legacy can help to explain its puzzling attitude over the fate of a Kurdish border town in Syria, sieged by ISIS terrorists while the world holds its breath.

Every Saturday a group of women, some in black, some in traditional Kurdish attire, gather at noon on the iconic Galatasaray square, in Istanbul. Each woman carries a placard with a portrait, a name, and a date: that of their children or husbands, with the date when they were arrested by security forces or snatched by unknown men in civilian clothes. Many of them were never seen again, the others were found dead, some with signs of torture.

“Most people don’t know what really happened. I didn’t know. But peace is the only solution, and to have peace we have to seek Justice.” The 498th meeting was focused on the ongoing siege of the Syrian-Kurdish town, with a press statement urging its relief. On October 25th, the 500th meeting will be a huge demonstration.

Ersoy will be there: “We want to make sure that everybody knows what happened, and that it will never happen again.”

Istanbul (Turkey) October 18th, 2014: a man at the ÒSaturday MothersÓ 499th meeting holds a placard reading ÒFor 17 years from the disappearance we are asking ÔWhere is Yusuf Nergiz?ÕÓ (Photo by Piero Castellano)

Istanbul (Turkey) October 18th, 2014: Ersoy Tan, a freelance journalist from Istanbul, takes photo of the 499th meeting of the so-called ÒSaturday Mothers,Ó Kurdish women protesting every Saturday for their children, who disappeared while in custody of Security Forces. (Photo by Piero Castellano)

Istanbul (Turkey) October 18th, 2014: Some of the so-called ÒSaturday MothersÓ, Kurdish women who protest every Saturday about their childrenÕs disappearance while in custody of Security Forces. Dozens, then hundreds of people have joined their quest to know their children or
husbandsÕ fate.

During the 1980s and 1990s, hundreds of political activists, journalists or suspected sympathizers of the outlawed Kurdistan Workers Party, PKK, were detained by security forces and never seen alive again. PKK is considered a terrorist group by Turkey, the EU and USA.
(Photo by Piero Castellano)

Istanbul (Turkey) October 18th, 2014: Three of the so-called ÒSaturday MothersÓ holding portraits of their disappeared relatives. The group was dubbed ÒMothersÓ by the press for the similarities with the Argentinian Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, who have often showed their solidarity with the Kurdish women. (Photo by Piero Castellano)